


The Letter

by CharlesHenri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlesHenri/pseuds/CharlesHenri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all Draco Malfoy's fault, Harry thinks when he reads the letter. The ferret's corrupted Hermione, no doubt. And what is Ron going to say?</p><p>OS, humour, happens years after Deathly Hallows. Implied Draco/Hermione.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first OS written in English so feel free to tell me about any and all English mistakes you notice! Thank you.

When Harry saw the letter, he had to stop Ginny from _Incendio_ -ing it on the spot. The owl that had entered their living room wore the white collar of a Ministry owl; his wife’s antipathy towards their honourable administrators knew no bounds. She wouldn’t even read a letter from those she called “a worthless bunch of paper pushers who can’t be bothered to pull their inflated heads out of their asses”.

“You agree with me, Harry, don’t deny it. They can’t pass a single law without bickering like they haven’t finished Hogwarts yet.”

And, well, Harry _did_ agree with the sentiment; not so much with Ginny’s way of expressing it. Still, he loved the angry look in her eyes when she spat insults at them. He loved how fiery she got then, as dangerous as fire with her beautiful hair.

He loved her, period.

But today he had to stop her. An overpowered _Protego_ protected the letter from her _Incendio_ – Ginny had a knack for offensive spells – and a wordless _Accio_ brought it to his hands. The Ministry owl hooted indignantly at the witch before flying back through the open window.

“Sorry, Gin, but you can’t burn everything they send. It might be from the office.”

“As if,” she snorted. “No Auror would bother using Ministry owls now that Anthony Goldstein’s come up with his mirror trick.”

Harry looked at the communication mirror sitting on their table. It was a handy thing, very similar to Muggle telephones, much less expensive than Sirius’s old mirror and allowing instant communication that, as far as they knew, couldn’t be intercepted by anyone: an Auror’s dream. Anthony’s invention had not conquered the market yet but the Auror Office was a steady customer. 

“It could be important,” he said while opening the envelope.

Albus chose this moment to start crying. Ginny got up to see what the one-year-old wanted.

“He must be hungry,” Harry said. “I changed his nappy not an hour ago.”

“He’s even more of a glutton than James,” Ginny sighed as the boy latched onto her breast like a child starved. “I don’t know where all this milk comes from. Let’s hope he hasn’t woken his brother.” Their three-year-old could be a right nightmare if his nap was interrupted.

Ginny narrowed her eyes when she saw her husband pale.

“Tell me it’s not an invitation to another stupid gala. I’m fed up with foreign dignitaries trying to ask you why you didn’t run for Minister after the war.”

Harry swallowed.

“Merlin,” she swore. “I’ll find whoever sent this and show them that my Bat-Bogey hex is still good enough to…”

“It’s not the Ministry, Gin. Well, it was sent _from_ the Ministry but that’s only because she only comes home to sleep lately-anyway, it’s from Hermione.”

Ginny’s furious look was immediately replaced by an affectionate smile. Over the years, Hermione had become as much of a sister to her as she was to Harry, despite everything that had happened with Ron.

“What does she say? Ferret’s been unfaithful?”

“You won’t believe it. She…”

That was when the mirror rang-the deeper tone that meant the call was for Ginny. Harry bent over the table and slid the device towards his wife. “Thanks”, she said while changing the position of her son so she only needed an arm to hold him.

A burst of magic, and Molly Weasley’s voice filled the room.

“Ginny, dear, where are you? Percy and Audrey have been here for half an hour already. Little Molly keeps asking after you, she even makes full sentences now... Wait, are you feeding Albus? Ginny, did you forget that you said you’d come today?”

“I did?”

She looked at Harry. Her husband raised his hands.

“You never told me about it.”

“Sorry, Mom, you’re right-I forgot. Harry got an unexpected free day and I thought I’d stay home with him and the boys…”

“Oh, that’s alright! Harry doesn’t get enough free time, if you want my opinion. You don’t have to come, just spend the afternoon with your family, Percy will understand-”

“No, I’ll come, I said I would. Tell them I’ll be at the Burrow as soon as I find something else to wear, okay?”

“Darling, you don’t have to!”

“It’s okay, Mom, it really is.” She raised her eyes to Harry’s. “Is it?”

“Go, Gin.” He spoke a bit louder: “Molly, is it alright with you if I join you for dinner? I just received an… important letter, I need to answer it now-“

“Of course, Harry dear! You have an important job, you must get a lot of letters! Oh, that’s such good news, little Molly will be so happy to see you too, she loves both of you…”

“Yes, yes, Mom. I’m going to hang up and go change, see you soon!”

An apologetic look later, Harry had his second son in his arms and his wife was running towards their bedroom to change out of her pyjamas. Ginny had been sleeping when he arrived, as could be expected from a woman who had only come home at four in the morning from the important match she was covering.

When she came out, she was still putting on her shoes. Harry took his wand and cast a Hair-Straightening spell on her. She thanked him and gave him a fast kiss before leaving the house.

“It’s just you and me now, boy,” Harry said to the baby in his arms.

Despite his desire to read the letter again, he took the time to sing a lullaby. For a reason neither Ginny nor him understood, his off-key singing never failed to put Albus to sleep; it was both a blessing and a curse, as it forced the redhead to endure his utter lack of musical talent at least once a day. Ron thought it was hilarious.

Albus soon closed his eyes and Harry was free to think about the letter once more.

He had read his friend’s History of Magic notes often enough that he knew her handwriting like his own; this, though, this was impressive even for her. Everyone at the Ministry had cursed the cheap office paper at least once but to pierce it four times in a single letter? She had to have written the same content twice or more for it to look so rushed. Hell, he could barely make out some of the words!

It was strange, he thought, how Hermione had changed drastically on some things and not at all on others.

Albus moved in his sleep and Harry put the letter back to cradle his son.

Yes, she had changed a lot since the War ended.

They had all been so _certain_ back then. Their path was laid before them, no longer clouded by the uncertainty of victory; if they looked far enough, they could even see the milestones that would be the major events of their life. And, well, Harry and Ginny had been right in their predictions. For the once-abused Boy-Who-Lived, family life had been something straight out of a fairy tale-the good kind, too, not the twisted ones where the hero died and the princess was raped by the villain.   
Harry had joined the Auror Introduction Program along with his male best friend, had aced the practical portion of the exams and had started his year-long apprenticeship immediately. Auror work was harsh and demanding but no more than a year on the run had been. It would’ve stripped him of his illusions if Voldemort had left him any; the monster hadn’t, and so Harry was horrified but not shocked by the atrocities he saw at crime scenes. Still, his job was often rewarding, even if it frustrated him sometimes when people seemed to worship him for killing a single Dark Wizard while his older colleagues had arrested so many more.  
Meanwhile Ginny had made an acceptable showing at her NEWTs and had then been accepted as Chaser into one of the very best Quidditch teams in Europe: the Holyhead Harpies. She had played for several years and won the World Cup once before her first pregnancy had led her to give up on her full-time position. She had since played two matches as Reserve Chaser and had taken a part-time job as Quidditch reporter in the _Daily Prophet_.

Despite the galas they sometimes had to attend, life was good for Harry and Ginny.

Ron and Hermione were another story.

Harry watched his child’s sleeping face, mesmerised by how peaceful Albus looked.

Ron and Hermione loved each other, of course they did. The three of them had been through too much together not to... But they had been the perfect example of how love, sometimes, just isn’t enough.  
It had started out so well. They had moved together immediately in Wizarding London, not far from Harry and Ginny. Ron had entered the Auror Introduction Program and Hermione had found an arrangement with McGonagall that let her study for her NEWTs at Hogwarts while living in London with her boyfriend.

Then Hermione had graduated-eleven Outstanding and an Outstanding plus in Defence _and_ Charms, the mythic mark that only a few had ever achieved. The _Daily Prophet_ had managed to learn about it and had eloquently praised “the most promising witch of our age”.

It had all gone downhill from there.

The harsh truth was that they were not a good match. If it hadn’t been for Harry, they would never have been friends, Ginny had often claimed. They were both good people, of course, with their strengths and faults, and they did love each other, it just _was not enough_.

Ron made Hermione feel bossy.

Hermione made Ron feel stupid.

They might have gotten over it if those hadn’t been such sore points for them. Ron had always felt like the spare child, the one that was neither exceptionally talented _nor_ the seventh child and first Weasley girl in seven generations. Later, after befriending Harry, he would come to see himself as the sidekick, the comic relief people forgot as soon as Harry or Hermione appeared. His brilliant girlfriend was just another strain on an already shaky self-worth.  
As for Hermione… she was just so _smart_. Ron had told Harry that he loved it when she talked about her interests, that her eyes would shine and her breathing would fasten andyou could almost _see_ her thoughts jumping from one point to another.

But he couldn’t keep up with her. Hermione wanted to _talk_ and he couldn’t. She pressed him, not understanding what was so hard, _were you even listening to me, Ronald_ , and Ron would say _yes_ and then get angry when she didn’t believe him because if he had listened he would’ve been able to _answer_ her question.   
He felt like he was holding her back. She felt like she was annoying him.

It was a match made in Hell.

They broke up a year before Harry married Ginny and never went back together. During the first six months, Hermione refused to even see him- _it’s not that I don’t like him anymore, Harry, it’s that I_ still _like him. I’m afraid that if we meet again we’ll fall back together and it will be the same thing all over again. Tell Molly I’m sorry I don’t come to the Burrow anymore, it’s not against her, it’s just…_

She had never finished that sentence. Harry understood, though.

Still. Malfoy. _That’s_ one thing he hadn’t seen coming.

Yes, the prat was clever and as fascinated by magic as she was but… Hermione was intense, and not just because she was so bloody brilliant. When a cause was dear to her heart, she would move mountains to see it recognised by the public; knowledge, power, status, she never used these for herself.

In Harry’s mind, _Malfoy the pureblood bigot_ was the furthest thing from _Hermione the selfless Muggleborn._

How it had happened, nobody knew. Hermione had learnt to play people, her idealism backed up by ruthless pragmatism-her work as a lawyer demanded it-but… Well. Malfoy. How on _Earth_? If the man had undergone some dramatic change- _a lobotomy_ , Ron had grumbled once-, Harry would’ve understood, but no. Malfoy was still Malfoy, prat extraordinaire whose exact words when Harry had asked him _Why Hermione?_ had been: _I don’t intend to let the Malfoys become a thing of the past because of pureblood inbreeding. Now, thanks to Granger’s abnormal brain, the Malfoys won’t be extinct and will stay the best and brightest in Wizarding Britain, as they should. Besides, her Muggle genes all but guaranty that our children will take after_ me _and not inherit her terrible hair._

Hermione had hit him.

Malfoy had-Harry had carefully stored the memory in his Pensieve so he could share it with Ron- Malfoy had _pouted._

A pouting Malfoy was a glorious thing.

Ginny had laughed for _days_.

Ron, on the other hand, Ron had been ready to apparate right in front of their flat as soon as he learnt so he could check her for _Imperius_ and love potions. It had taken a hex from Ginny to stop him. _If he questions her decision, she’s going to get angry and they’re going to fight. Now I would pay to watch them fight if it happened in a deserted forest, but if they go all out in the middle of Wizarding London it’s going to get ugly._

Which was a sound reasoning. Ron was an Auror and therefore a professional fighter; Hermione was a remarkable witch who had created some nasty spells. She lacked natural talent in duelling, sure, but her raw magical power more than made up for it.

So Ron had waited until he could calm down and had even managed to congratulate Hermione on expending her romantic interests-ferrets were marginally better than cockroaches, he supposed…

Hermione had raised her wand.

Ron had raised his.

Harry and Ginny, who had made sure they’d _both_ be here for the big meeting, had snapped into action: Ginny had hexed her brother, Harry had hexed Hermione, and the former lovers had been left paralysed for a good half-hour so they could reflect on proper behaviour between civilised people. _Thank Merlin Malfoy wasn’t there_ , Harry had said later on.

It had been an eventful day.

But Harry was first and foremost a friend, and so he had pledged to be fair towards the fe- _Malfoy._ After all, as incredible as it seemed, the man made Hermione _happy_. Sure, he also brought out her vindictive tendencies and taught her that ambitions were not restricted to the Dark Side, but hey. You can’t have it all.

Hermione was a good lawyer before they got together; she had become exceptional enough to cherry-pick her cases. Thanks to Malfoy’s money and her own savings, she could spend large amounts of time working on whatever subject had caught her interest. She also had access to the extensive Malfoy library, for all that she hated the Manor, and the books there had inspired her to new heights. For that, Harry was grateful to the prat: he allowed Hermione to unleash her full potential.

She and Ginny had even united to arrange a few common dinners during which they had mercilessly poked fun at their awkward partners. Harry and Malfoy would never be friends but at least they could be decent towards each other.

Alas, the same could not be said of Ron and Malfoy. Putting those two in the same room for more than ten minutes was a recipe for disaster.

Harry had hoped things would improve once Ron got steady with Alicia Spinnet; they hadn’t. Well, sometimes you had to admit defeat.

But the letter… Oh, the letter would rekindle the fires of their teenage hatred. No _way_ would Ron _not_ hold Malfoy responsible. It didn’t _matter_ if it was a good thing, if Hermione was more than capable enough, with her excellent reputation and Malfoy’s support: Ron would only say that she wouldn’t have done it if Malfoy hadn’t pushed her.

Hermione would say that she was big enough to make her own decisions and even then, what if Draco had encouraged her? Wasn’t that the point of having a good partner, that he could and would push you to be the best you could be?

Ron would say that “being the best you could be” didn’t mean “being the _most Slytherin_ you could be”.

Malfoy would chip in to say that actually it did.

Hermione would say that ambition was not a bad thing when you used it for righteous causes and it did not mean she had turned into a Slytherin.

Ron would quote the Slytherin values at her.

Harry would silently beg his wife to help him stop them, only to notice that Ginny would be trying to contain her mirth.

Oh, he could already see it. It would give him headaches for _months_. With his luck, they would both see him as neutral ground and come complain to him about the other’s behaviour. Those two sounded like bickering siblings sometimes.

Ron was going to have _kittens_.

But, well. It _was_ a good choice Hermione had made. Not one he had expected, mind, but a good choice nonetheless; she had a real chance of winning this thing and if someone could put their country on the right track and get rid of the useless bureaucracy, it was Hermione Granger.

So Harry _Accio_ ’d a pen, a sheet of paper, and started to write.

 _Hermione,  
Of course I’ll endorse your candidacy for Minister of Magic. Don’t sound so worried, you know I trust you. I’ll admit that I _ do _think Malfoy’s influence is showing but it’s not necessarily a bad thing (DO NOT REPEAT THAT TO RON)-you’d be a great Minister, Mione, better than Fudge by miles…_


End file.
